


Revealing the Unseen

by Eraharel (RabbitGoddess)



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-23
Packaged: 2018-05-27 18:36:24
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,326
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6295312
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RabbitGoddess/pseuds/Eraharel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A ambiguous narrative focusing on Solas/Lavellan romance, relationship and general interection (canon or not) past the events of In Your Heart Shall Burn, but with also so other many communion from Thedas' heroes, such as Hawke and Warden Cousland.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Silenced Tongues

**Author's Note:**

> Hello!  
> This first chapter was very based on the in-game scene, with the dialogues and all, but most of the story won't be like that, so, hope you enjoy like I did!!

The climb was harsh and full of perils. Snow covered most of the mountain’s soil, deep white traps to claim the unaware who stranded afar from the marching troops. He glared down the stony hill, miles below, and how it ended at a frozen stream – horses and other mounts were damned to have a hard time following it. Looking back, his gaze laid upon the faithful masses, a thick sting of hope guiding them to move forward. After the surprise Corypheus was, most of them walked aimlessly, as the Inquisition’s advisors faked a plan to avoid general despair; although, he knew, they were as astonished as the common folks. Until the Herald joined them. Closest thing to a miracle, an arising figure signing for strength and endurance, as the pilgrims and soldiers chanted in trust for better days to come, laying on the back of an ascended leader, or at least, soon to be one.

He also did share the secret behind the enemy’s power – the elven orb, but Solas did not dare her to tell any further. She agreed with his goal to recover and restore it, before anything else could have been led astray from his true mission.

They were not far now. The Tarasyl’an Te’las, the place where the sky was held back, would fit as a keep, a protection for those who needed it, the ground for fertile seeds. Seranna shadowed him, a few steps back, head down and heavy stride. Since the great commotion from before, the puerile elf seemed to carry a burden bigger than herself, and with that, he could be of no assistance. But, once she reached the top of the ridge, her amazed gawk made everything even more worth. Solas drew his lips open, as the girl stood speechless.

“Skyhold.” Her feet moved slightly, as she admired the great fortitude; tall walls and taller towers, a massive reef of gravel and boulders, and the arched bridge to their new home.

✺

The tents were settled and most of the followers had their feelings calmed. Belief helped shape that moment, but it hardly did so alone. Seranna left the makeshift room, free from robes and armor – her staff was kept by some lackey-aspirant, where it wouldn’t be lost nor damaged. As she went down the stairs, she gazed the advisors peeking at her, quiet, as if expecting her to come closer. The others left by her approaching, leaving Cassandra and Seranna alone. The woman looked around, starting to speak.

“They arrive daily from every settlement in the region. Skyhold is becoming a pilgrimage.” She began to walk, being followed by the smaller. While climbing the stairs to arrive at the courtyard, Seranna noticed the truth in Cassandra’s words; people of all sorts installed within those walls, grateful for another day lived. “If word reached these people, it will have reached the Elder One.  We have the walls and numbers to put up a fight here, but this threat is far beyond the war we anticipated. But we now know what allowed you to stand against Corypheus, what drove him to you.”

Seranna felt the mark tingling on her skin, the so-called Anchor. Looking at it made her remember her confrontation with the magister, a barb of hatred to bite her stomach and make the anger speak louder.

“He came for this, and now it’s useless to him and he wants me dead, that’s it.”

“The Anchor _has_ power, but it’s not why you’re still standing here.” And so the stroll continued, rising to the castle’s main building. “Your decisions helped us heal the sky; your determination brought us out of Haven. You are the creature’s rival because of what _you_ did, and we know it. All of us. The Inquisition requires a leader – the one who has _already_ been leading it.”

In the curve of the stairwell, Leliana awaited with a greatsword, shinning blade and dragon-shaped pommel. A fine weapon, even if not made for handling in battle.

At the keep’s entrance, all started to gather and watch, as the new Inquisitor would be named – Seranna’s skin got cold with the anxiety, a knot to the throat to swallow her own voice. It was the second time in such a short period of time people would look up to her, not down. For an elf – mainly one of the Dalish – that was a brand new feeling, wrought with pride and haughtiness.  

“Are you offering this to an elf? Are you quite sure of what you’re doing?” seeing them in their wish to arise her even higher made her start to fear the fall. Being an elf did not make her any less qualified to carry the Inquisition, but from her point of view, that wasn’t much better. Her burden as Herald was a heavy one, sturdy and concise, but as _Inquisitor?_ That would be accepting to be the hero in that tale. And she wasn’t living a tale.

“I would be terrified handing that power to anyone, but I believe it’s the only way. They’ll follow you. What it means to you, and how you lead us, that is for you alone to decide.”

The idea of power made her linger. Seranna was no tyrant – indeed, she found little admiration in self-proclaimed leaders. But that wasn’t her case. The people who followed her, stood with her, defended and looked after her putted her there, gave her power and freedom to bear as she chose.

In her hands, the sword felt heavy and balanced. Runes carved the blade, words she did not understand but gave her time to think. “Corypheus will be stopped.” She heard her own lips saying, as she raised it high. She heard the crowd cheering, screaming and celebrating, as Commander Cullen would thrive with their morals and her inner circle would quietly approve or not her decision.

And as she walked upstairs, she glammed over her left – a darker shade drifted idle amidst the ending-day shadows, the one who had led them there but made no claim for it.

She thought of walking to Solas and inviting him to be part of the plan for the next step; and, still, she didn’t. Roguish in the dusk, he didn’t stare her with envy, naught or disapproval – he simply stared. If there was a feeling hidden behind those silvery heather eyes, there was no way she could tell. Since the arrival, none traded a word, as the atmosphere would get dimmer and thicker. Seranna thought of saying she was thankful for everything he did so far, how he’d helped without asking for nothing in return, for sharing secrets she knew were decisive, for just being there. Even so, the words would not leave her chest. Maybe with timidity for nearing him, maybe for wanting to give him his own space, she decided it was best to keep her distance.

Soon, his glare turned somewhere else, and his frame was lost amongst so many others.

✺

Solas watched in silence as the Herald was now also named the leading Inquisitor. When Cassandra declared she was wanted to carry the title, he saw Seranna’s back straighten slightly, tension devouring her flesh and soul, fear of corruption and misleading. He’d seen that in many other places, both ethereal and physical, as the ones who rose from the dust would be given great responsibilities – he was like that once, many centuries ago.

Deep inside, he hoped she wouldn’t perish to all the temptations that come abroad with duty. He knew, after his orb was recovered, little mattered of what she’d choose to do with _her_ Inquisition, but a small fraction, a tiny piece of his ancient being surmised she would walk a smoother path, especially if he could help.

And when she started to make her way into the hall, their eyes met. His body strained by itself, taunted, as he saw her glare mix itself in worry and confusion. Her straddle was hesitant, chains pulling her back and making her body ache to continue the climb alone; Cassandra and Leliana shadowed, behind, but he knew how hard it was to go in front, open the path through the fire and doom, as she was about to.

If he could give an advice, it’d be not to look back; to see those who’d fallen under your command, your orders, your ideals, there was no greater remorse – Lavellan was not much more than a Shemlen, a quickling designed to be a beacon of hope and light, the one who’d had to be her own flare, for none would sign her trail for her. His heart was crossed with sorrow to realize that, and so he leered somewhere else, knowing in such a short time she was already cussed to suffering and staginess. As the advisors entered the building, Solas closed his eyes and got his breathing steady. Even if he wanted to help those people, worrying about only one figure would lead him nowhere. His main and primary goal should remain to recover his power, and wander too far from that was certain to be a mistake only made once – meddling was supposed to be minimal, his feelings about those encountered should be buried deep.

A thread of sunlight warmed the buildings under repair. Everyone seemed emerged into their chores and roles, eager to assist in whatever ways they could, even kids, young and prompt, tried helping the elders in carrying goods around and running smaller tasks, proud for helping the Inquisitor reform her new lair. Day’s heat floated in his veins as he would leave darkness for a moment, kissing him gently on the skin, caressing his face and body, a good-night gift before the sun left for the next hours. Events like that would become rarer and rarer, so Solas did not think twice before saving it while it lasted.

His stance softened, back outstretched and free, no ties pulling back.

Opening his eyes, Solas saw the northern skies growing darker – a storm was to come, but only he noticed it. Regret and shame burned his chest open, for knowing many would suffer from that tempest just because he was too proud to tell anyone to find a shelter, spare the heedless of more work. He turned his back to the incoming rain, feigning ignorance to lighten his heart; if he didn’t know, he would have no guilt for not alerting anyone.    

 

 


	2. A Healing Hand

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Before Solas decide to take Lavellan back to Haven and needs a little push.

Uneasiness rushed throughout her arteries, the pumping of her heart pushing her rib cage forward like marching drums, stead beating in a rhythm she could only dream of performing. As her body was laid on her new world-swallowing bed, her left arm was extended over Solas’ lap, an experiment of studying and prevention. The man had sat over a wooden bench, using tools and herbs to determine how the Anchor would react. “Can you feel it?” his voice was husky, low and almost scattered getting to her ears. The room was silent until then, brought along with the marvel of being alone with him. Before, it was nothing more than conversations, even monologues he used to explain the doubts she had, but now, something had changed – if she could only tell what.

Seranna tried focusing on the mark, and which feelings and sensations it carried; she could taste his fingers on her wrist, his thumb nearing the center of the palm. But from the glowing thing on her hand came nothing.

“Are you sure you’re doing something?” she tried to peek, but Solas' eyes told her not to.

“It seems the mark is as intangible as the rifts. The physical does not affect it.”

“Are you certain? I mean, if I can draw it open whenever I wish, then perhaps—“ her line was cut by a slight shock that ran up her arm and faded on her shoulder. Her instinct was to pull her arm back, but Solas’ tight grip on her fist kept it there. She could still feel the electricity in her body, disbanded all over her limbs. Whatever he did, had no intention of hurting, but triggering some reaction. His smug smile told her his plan worked.

“I _am_ certain. Since you sealed the Breach, your mark has grown more stable than I could have predicted. That granted me the ability to study and analyze it without variants. I heard now you can open small rifts as well.” He got up from the bench, as she sat on the end of her bed, perceiving how his stance had changed yet again. He appeared somewhat offended for hearing this from someone else.

“Yes, I can. They’re different from the usual rifts, however, pulling instead of pushing.”

“Sounds truly remarkable.” His back was straightened back to its full height, and he walked towards the stairs. Before he could give the first step, Lavellan called him back.

“Solas, I…” the raw ice in his eyes melted a little by hearing her calling him back. “I did not thank you. I hope you know how grateful I am for everything you have done. If there is something, anything…”

“Your name.” the discern on current topics let her lost in the first moment “Seranna is a variation of ‘appreciation’ in Ancient Elven.”

“So told me my keeper.” She smiled warmly, standing up but not moving closer. Solas stood quiet before speaking again.

“I should be the one thanking you, Inquisitor.”

✺

Slim fingers passed the pages, thin pieces of dust floating to her nose and making her sneeze loudly inside the cozy and small study. Serving as an office of reading and sanctuary of silence, the restrained library was for her and only her to use, hidden in the deepest parts of the castle’s main building. A dim light fleeted the candlestick towards the great and heavy book, but her mind traveled far from there, a soft digress she didn’t even notice.

She felt nails tapping on the wooden table in a dry beating to echo the walls, back and forth. Seranna tried to swallow the words the book would aimlessly throw at her, but her focus was doomed to an inevitable decay. Her conscience paced a couple of stairwells upper, in the rotunda tower – dank colorful paintings, newly made to suit as a historical map of all that occurred during her rising as Inquisitor. The chair held her stretched back while she wondered what he might be doing right then, greyish blue eyes, idling staring and watching, longing from afar for something she would never guess.

Beckoning threads of light tempered in her face as Seranna lowered her eyelids for one moment, cleansing quietness to sway her mind away. If she sharpened her ears to the quickest of mumbles, she could still hear the talking in the main hall, visitors and nobles who now felt close enough to find shelter inside her reef of safety. In the kitchen, a few meters away, the pots and iron pans sang in a metallic tune, a smooth whipping to remind her she wasn’t alone. When Seranna opened her eyes, a blond blur crossed her sight, a large hat to hide the face. “You come here to be alone, but you don’t want to be alone.” Cole’s voice dragged weight to reach her, when the elf smiled to the boy.

“What we want is not always what we need.” She rose from her chair, pacing around the room to pick a book she wouldn’t read. “But if you desire to keep me company, I’d not complain.”

“He thinks like you.” The boy sat over the table, playing with his thumbs no much more different than a child. Maybe Varric’s nickname for him did not wander too far from that.

“Who does, Cole?” Said she.

“He doesn’t want to be alone, but he will be.” Anxiety was tied to his tune, thoughts coming out faster than words.

“Can’t you help him?”

“Maybe. He fears letting others near, a corned beast without choice. I’ll go for him.” And like that, Cole disappeared out of thin air. His words entangled her – _for_ him.

Her mark twitched on her hand, an Anchor to keep her grounded. She thought who Cole was referring to, but if it mattered, he would have told her, or at least so she thought. The air grew sturdy on her shoulders, a warning to say her time on that cage of knowledge was expiring. She left through the door, a quiet stride marching to her chamber – as the night fell on Skyhold, the pilgrimage would silence itself, a bird nesting for sleep. Torches of fire flared her way, but before crossing the hall, she peeked on the rotunda. Most of it was fainted soundless, dusk tarnish in the cold eventide. A short fraction of the wall was done, white sheets covering the furniture to keep it virgin. Her feet hasted, eyes spying upon the gloomy tower.

In the couch, she found Solas’ body lying down, a dreamful sleep to steal him from the waking world. His eyelids trembled like small earthquakes as he traveled the Fade, studying and researching in a way she never could. A yearning devoured her stomach, wanting to come closer, intimate, touching, pushing and pulling at the same time. To cross her fingers in his freckled skin, to cup his face and glare it with whim, to him to stare her back.

She pulled away, restraining her mind of having such inappropriate images. Seranna left the tower as she came, unnoticed, but feeling a different string tied to her body and soul. She decided to ignore the sensation for the moment and focus on rebuilding her new home.

 ✺

Berries, tart and blue, covered most of the flats in branches and bushes, ambrosial balms for him to scent and admire. The greenish and lively trees grew twisted from the ground, tall enough to kiss the clouds above and shadow all he would step. Traveling the Fade was a two-way road – he was both free and bound, needless to say how careful every gesture should be, cautiously planned before every night’s slumber. Even with all the lush views and rank beauties, Solas could still sense all the rottenness and taint the ethereal carried; beneath the ground he could hear them singing, a soft tune to remind it wasn’t really over.

He did not subdue his own trap knowing how it lacked any flaws, something to last eternity and beyond. Yet, Solas was also aware that for his plan to succeed, their prisons should be scattered to dust, an ultimate evil to be once again released upon the world, diseased by greed, envy and conceit, prideful creatures that were locked away for a reason.

“My friend.” The spirit voice was cheerful as she appeared for him, unshaped energy to greet and speak, but not to be defined by the laws of the physical. Her elven was perfect, better than he could ever master, and he felt relieved to have someone to speak to. “You seem so worn, my friend. Which tales you have brought to tell me?”

“I continue to help her and her army. Still, I taste bitterness and guilt in every word I spill. She should not be the one paying for my faults.” Said he. Remorse dragged his call, weight none would relieve for him.

“You say that, but blind yourself to see the good you have made.”

“All I do is atone, and that is not something to pride myself of. Redeem one’s wrongs does not make them rights.”

“She can help you. Your fear of rejection has no foundation – your mistrust has only led you awry.”

A knot held his throat back, the air being thick to swallow and words hard to come out. “Once this is done, she’ll know.”

“After all this time, my friend, you keep armoring yourself in vanity. I wonder, you do that for suspecting she’s found a crack on your armor, of for knowing it?”


End file.
